Sherly Temple
by miettelaenvie
Summary: Genderbent Sherlock that I promised a friend.


**A/N:** This is my first time writing genderbent for any fandom, so please excuse any discrepancies.

* * *

><p>"I can make accurate deductions about this crime and I can be a female at the same time, seeing as how the two have nothing to do with each other."<p>

Anderson pursed his lips, preparing to say something and Sherlock cringed internally, cutting him off with an annoyed look. "Don't bother speaking, nothing you have to say will be of any use."

"Detective Inspector!" Anderson cried at Lestrade, who had a pained expression on his face. Sherlock knew that look well and she braced herself, her hands clenching into fists at her side. "Sherlock…" Lestrade trailed off, the 'behave yourself, please' silent. She bit the side of her cheek, making a mental note to acquire Anderson's records. This may even be Mycroft-worthy—but probably not. She still had Anderson and Donovan over on their (continuing) affair and Anderson hadn't told his wife yet, that much was certain.

John stepped in. "Sherlock, why don't we step over here and let the team do their job?" Sherlock looked between her two friends, turning on her heel and stomping over to a squad car, John trotting behind her. "Sherlock, you got your look, come on. You know Anderson is a prat."

"He didn't have to make that comment." Something about it kept irritating her.

John glanced at her, his hands locked behind his back. "You don't care about his comments, though. He's an idiot, remember?"

She felt the edge of her mouth began to quirk upward. It was always nice to hear someone else insulting Anderson. They both turned, hearing the Detective Inspector tell Donovan to take over, and watched as Lestrade made his way to them.

"Sherlock," he started, a heavy sigh in his voice. She knew that tone, the speech that was going to follow.

"Don't abuse the officers, this is a privilege, I'm lucky you even let me on to the crime scene." she mimicked, voice going from a mocking tone to a hard biting off of words. "You need me and you know it. Don't act as if you're doing me a favor."

Lestrade crossed his arms.

"But… he _is _doing you a favor," John said, his brow furrowing. The raven haired woman made a face and looked over at the scene, watching Donovan order people around. Wrong, wrong, wrong. There were going to be slip ups.

She caught the older man giving the barest hint of a smile. "Look, Sherlock. I don't know how you do whatever it is that you do-"

"I observe." She said off-handedly.

"But," Lestrade continued, raising an eyebrow. "There are certain rules I have to follow, and your constant nitpicking at those two-" a pointed glance towards Anderson and Donovan "-is going to get one or both of us in trouble if you can't tone it down."

"He's sexist." Sherlock said, voice hostile. John rolled his eyes and Sherlock's posture straightened.

Lestrade exhaled. "He's not sexist, he's just… Anderson."

"An idiot?" _A massively unhelpful git?_

The Detective Inspector smiled and she detected genuine emotion in the gesture. "Your words, not mine. Now look, it's best that you be going. We'll call you if-"

"If anything shows up, I'll know." Sherlock finished for him, and ignoring the exasperated look on Lestrade's face, took her phone out and began sliding her fingers over the screen. It had went off in her pocket, the vibrate feature muffled by her wool coat. "We'll be in touch," she said, turning to walk away.

"You're welcome."

She paused, looking back. "Thank you," she replied in a tone that almost sounded sincere. Lestrade looked at John and the doctor just shrugged, unable to give any reassurances about his flatmate's sudden whims.

* * *

><p>The cab ride home was quiet, Sherlock focused on her phone and John staring out the window.<p>

"Go ahead and ask." she said.

John looked at her and she could feel the confusion radiating from him. "What?"

Sherlock glanced at him. "I know you have a question."

John straightened. "Well, yes. But-"

"Don't be dull, John."

He leaned back in the seat, crossing his arms. "Fine. 'Sherly?'"

Sherlock stiffened. She detested that nickname. "You know Sherlock is a family name."

"Yes, but 'Sherly?'"

"Don't."

"What have you got against 'Sherly?'"

"I will end you."

"It's not that bad."

"I have an experiment I've been meaning to conduct, about how many cotton balls can be fit into a mouth and nose while a person is sleeping to mimic the effects of being smothered."

"Right…" There was a pause. "Sherly."

"_John."_


End file.
